Resident Evil: The Windyclaw Incident
by ZyneDeAth
Summary: A new strain of the T-Virus was stolen from Umbrella by a rival en route to Windyclaw City. But do the thieves fully grasp the power they have under their control? Umbrella want their virus back, and the citizens of Windyclaw just want to survive.
1. A Safe Delivery

**Author's Notes:** Hi. Firstly I'd like to say thanks for taking the time to read this. Just a few things I'd like to say really. Firstly; I'd like to make it clear from the start that yes this is a Resident Evil Fan Fic. But it will not be featuring any of the characters from the games (barring the various zombies and assorted beings affected by the T-Virus) or at least that's how I've got it planned out at the moment. It will feature organisations present in the games such as Umbrella and S.T.A.R.S and contain frequent references to events in the games. There won't be any zombies for the first few chapters so I hope that those of you looking for a quick zombie fix can bare with me! Other than that, please R & R. I hope you enjoy it.

**Chapter 1 – A Safe Arrival**

"_The key to the power of the universe lies not in cultural splendour, but in science."_

The combined eighty-four thousand pound-thrust of the four engines on the AWACS plane pushed it through the sky at a steady thirty-five thousand feet, hurtling through the sky at over five hundred mph the plane looked identical to any commercial plane flying at high altitude. This was to be expected; for apart from the constantly rotating radar mounted upon its back there were no features left on the plane to ever suggest it had belonged to the US Air Force. There were in fact no markings on the plane at all, except for a miniscule serial number etched at the base of the tail-wing; 'UAW-02'.

Oblivious to these facts however were the three men resting in the surprisingly comfortable interior of the formidable plane. The small room they sat in contained several plush red armchairs and a circular mahogany table at which to sit, all bolted securely to the floor. There was a small bar in one corner of the room, a bar which so far at least had remained unused. Two of the men were sitting in the armchairs, both of them in their mid to late forties and both wearing the trademark white jackets which showed them to be scientists. This was where the similarities between the two ended. The first had clearly not aged well and had thinning hair flecked with grey. He had a pointed nose and peculiarly small eyes, to balance this; a large pair of spectacles perched precariously on his face. It was a miracle that they had yet to fall off. The second of the two was heavyset, with a full head of dark hair and a round face. He sat with his hands on the table in front of him, looking in the general direction of his colleague as they sat in silence. Not so much at his colleague, but over his shoulder, at one of the two doors leading out of the room. There was one behind him which led to the bathroom, the cockpit and the exit. The door he was looking at lead to a further compartment of the plane, a part of the plane no one wished to go.

Sighing to himself, the third man looked away from the two scientists and idly turned his gaze out of the window. Standing at around five foot ten he wasn't particularly tall, but his broad muscular shoulders and the piercing gaze in his electric blue eyes more than made up for it. Running a hand back through his slicked black hair he leant on the wall with the calm collected demeanour expected of a professional. He was dressed in an all black combat suit; a Kevlar bullet proof vest covered his chest and his back. At his waist were not one, but two pistol holsters. In the first was another of the countless military items afforded to his employers by the US government; a SOCOM pistol equipped with laser sighting and optional silencer, which at the moment was fitted securely to the barrel of the weapon. In the rear holster he carried a rare Glock Model 18C; virtually identical to the infamous Glock 17 this specialist model of the same weapon was capable of firing in full automatic; releasing a stream of bullets from its thirty round extended clip when the user depressed the trigger. Coming from his collar, which was fitted with additional Kevlar sniper protection, a tiny black coil ran up to his right ear and the earpiece he was wearing. Stood against the wall next to him was a large assault rifle, fitted with a shotgun attachment activated by a second trigger, and large night vision sights. To be blunt; he looked tooled up for some heavy action.

"We'll be arriving in ten minutes, you two better get ready." he suddenly spoke, his gravely voice directed at the two scientists at the table.

"Of course…..r-right away," replied the bespectacled scientist, brushing away a bead of sweat which had formed on his forehead. He took a deep breath and stood from the table, he was visibly shaking somewhat.

"Hey! Walt!" The larger scientist called to him, the bespectacled man turned his head slightly, "Look at me," he said, meeting the little scientist's gaze. "Calm down. We've been over this a hundred times already, it's perfectly safe. I'm nervous too, don't worry though, we both know its part of the job." As the man spoke he rose to his feet, standing at around six foot and weighing in at over two hundred pounds he hardly looked like what you'd expect of a respected scientist. He stepped over to the bar and poured his colleague a shot of bourbon. "Drink this. It'll calm your nerves, can't have you shivering and shaking like that." The small man gratefully took the drink, stared at it for a moment, then threw his head back and swallowed the shot. Pulling a sour face he then smiled his thanks.

Having calmed himself he wet his lips and walked across the room, under the gaze of the soldier in the corner, to the rear door. Edging open the door he stepped into a tiny enclosure, there was another door immediately in front of him. This door, unlike the other, was not an expensive wooden door designed to impress and comfort those on board, this door was solid steel and at least ten inches thick. There were no windows through to the next room, no trademarks on the door and no finery. Just a door shaped lump of steel completely impregnable to most portable modern day explosives. On the wall adjacent to the door were two security units. The small scientist bent his head down and looked into the retinal scanner, a small light wove across the screen and then back again. He removed his head and a green light flashed on a small readout next to the retinal scanner, a picture of his face appeared.

"**Dr. W. M. Jefferson, PHD"**

Turning back and stepping out of the room he spoke softly, "I've done it….your turn." The larger man turned from where he had remained standing at the bar and walked briskly past him, his large figure barely fitting into the cramped space. Craning awkwardly he managed to put his eyes to the scanner, a moment later the green light lit up again and his picture appeared below the one of Walt Jefferson,

"**Dr. B. N. Wilkes, PHD".**

Another display appeared which read;

"**Authorisation granted; enter access code in 4:00."**

Sighing to himself, Benjamin Wilkes went to sit back down at the table as the four minute timer began to count down. It was a customary procedure; the four minute pause was meant to check that everything was under control and that those putting the codes in were not being forced. Anyone who was trying to force access would be in a rush; they most likely wouldn't be able to wait for four minutes.

"Six minutes…" the soldier spoke again, having just received confirmation from his men up near the cockpit. Looking out of the window Benjamin saw that the plane was steadily descending, the cityscape of Windyclaw, USA, revealed itself in all its majesty as they emerged from the clouds. The city was located on the West Coast between Los Angeles and San Jose, it was home to just under three million people; making it the fourth biggest city in the entire country. As the plane flew over the cities suburbs the dozens of skyscrapers could be seen jutting out all over the city; business enterprises, entertainment centres, hotels, casinos and several newly constructed stadiums where the Windyclaw Ravens could continue their NFL crusade. The city was obviously extremely prosperous; partly due to Umbrella corporation's pouring in of billions of dollars into the city's upkeep over the last decade. The city was fairly clean as far as big cities go, with a well established police force and a relatively low crime level. A haven for families and businessmen its suburbs were teeming with families living 'The American Dream'. Due to it's location on the coast the city had ample trade with the rest of the country and indeed the world, with extensive harbours and large warehouse facilities on the front the shipping industry was booming. With an average of over 250 days of sun a year the city was almost a paradise.

The plane banked left, over the residential districts and skirting around the edge of the downtown district, avoiding the colossal buildings filling that area. It instead turned towards the far end of the city, at this southern end of the city Windyclaw merged with the countryside much more. Numerous estates and hectares of private land were owned by various companies and wealthy individuals in this part of town. The land was green and dotted with wooded areas which gradually built into the Windyclaw Wildlife Park. This area marked the southernmost border of the city and it was here where the aircraft found its destination. An airport, not marked on any maps, was located only a few hundred metres from this forest. The airport was small, with only one terminal and one runway; yet it was obviously very modern with the latest in air traffic control systems running from its tower and an extensive staffing to ensure that all who used it were treated as befitted their high status.

Benjamin Wilkes and Walt Jefferson nodded to each other and rose to their feet, Benjamin stood by the door whilst Walt entered the enclosure one more time, he waited a further five seconds until the timer finally read:

"**You now have 2:00 to enter the access code."**

Walt wet his lips nervously again and placed a finger on the keypad, at once the keypad whirred into life and its digital readout blinked on. It took an instant fingerprint scan from his finger, upon confirmation that it was indeed Walt Jefferson attempting to enter the code it stayed from the high current voltage it would otherwise have injected into the person using the keypad. Walt entered the fourteen digit pass code that he had long since learnt by heart and waited as the hydraulics on the other side of the door slowly and silently opened the steel door. Turning to face Benjamin he nodded and they stepped through into the next chamber, it was a small room measuring about nine metres square. The entire room was steel like the door; steel walls, steel ceiling and a steel floor. This room was designed to be completely impregnable. In the centre of the room was the focus of this flight and all the security; a cube around seventy centimetres by seventy centimetres stood in the middle of the room. A complicated system of computer screens covered the top of this cube shaped container. The readouts measured temperature, stability of environment and many other things. After brief inspection the two scientists deemed everything to be satisfactory, smiling in a relieved way they turned away from the cube. Hung up on a wall to their left were two hazard suits. They exchanged a glance and moved over to them.

Back in the room, the soldier, Sergeant Shane Harman, sighed to himself and pushed away from the wall, picking up his assault rifle he put the strap around his body and twisted the rifle around to his back. Stepping through the opposite door he walked through into a small corridor where two more of his men were stationed. Both dressed identically to him barring his second pistol and Kevlar sniper protection, wearing black helmets with tinted visors; they looked like clones. He nodded to them, both corporals and both reliable men, he was glad to have them with him.

"We'll be arriving in about sixty seconds. Everything you read in the briefing; every comma and every letter was there for a reason. We have to do everything exactly as they want us to. I assume you both understand this?"

"Sarge," came the joint reply.

"Good, didn't doubt you for a second guys. Stay sharp and we'll be back in the barracks tonight with the lads, no more of this brown nosing bullshit." The two corporals smiled beneath their visors at this comment, Harman grinned to them and moved back into the room just as the aircraft touched down onto the ground. Placing a hand on the wall to steady himself he quickly regained his balance and looked through the open doors to the two scientists. He shook his head in wonder as he saw the two of them, dressed in full hazard suits, bent over some form of container. One of them, the larger he thought, although it was hard to tell due to their suits, suddenly turned around. Despite the visor on the hazard suit he was sure that he was looking straight into the scientist's eyes. The scientist walked slowly to the steel door and pushed it closed, blocking Harman's view of the room. Harman raised his eyebrows and shrugged to himself, he didn't know what was in the container and he didn't care. What he did care about was the ten thousand dollars the two men and he were each getting to escort the package and the scientists from the Miami headquarters to the Windyclaw headquarters.

The plane taxied down the runway and began to dock against the terminal, Harman smiled to himself and waited as the plane finally came to a halt. It had been a fairly long flight to be stuck in a room with two boring academics and he looked forward eagerly to gaining his pay and getting back to other operations. He heard a loud thud as the plane was locked in place and they would finally be able to disembark. Turning back to the door he saw that the scientists were still not done,

"They'd better hurry up in there" he murmured to himself, not wanting to be on the plane any longer than was necessary.

Finally satisfied that everything was definitely ok the two scientists entered another series of codes into the cube. The cube opened outwards, as silent as the door which had opened previously. Resting inside the cube was a much smaller box, not much bigger than a standard attaché briefcase. Through a small slit of glass the top of several vials could be seen lying carefully cushioned inside the case. Benjamin and Walt stopped for a few moments, and looked at the case below them. The reason for all of this was inside those vials, both exhaling a little and calming their nerves once more, they set about picking up the case.

Corporal Louis Jones kissed the crucifix inside his jacket and replaced it. He smiled to the other Corporal; Buck Healey, and walked to the door, assault rifle in one hand he took the handle of the door and grimaced as he pushed it upwards and outwards. The door whirred as the mechanics inside took over and it lifted itself up to a right angle from the plane. Beneath his visor, Louis Jones' eyes widened as they took in the sight beyond,

"Jesus Christ!" he stammered.

"He can't help you now." Came the cold reply as the gun went off like a cannon in the confined space. The .357 round shattered the visor on Jones' helmet and went straight into his head. It caused a star shaped explosion in the back of his skull as the round exited his body and carried on through the wall behind him. A jet of blood hit the wall with a sickening splat, Jones' collapsed backwards and his body hit the floor with a horrific thud, his neck bent at an obscene angle where he fell, the jagged mess where his face had been clear to all. Buck Healey took in the sight of his friend's body lying in a pool of his own blood and let out a scream of rage; he had his rifle in his shoulder in an instant, aimed at the figure beyond the doorway.

Buck Healey didn't stand a chance.

From beyond the figure a fuselage of high powered assault rifles opened up, the high calibre bullets whizzed over the figure's shoulders and tore mercilessly into Healey's body, even after they had knocked him back into the wall the unseen assailants kept on firing for a full three seconds. Despite the Kevlar body armour he had been wearing his entire body was a ragged mess as finally he slumped down the bloody wall and keeled over onto the corpse of his friend. The figure motioned with his hand and three of the men with assault rifles hurried past him and entered the plane.

Harman went wide eyed in horror as he heard, a second after the door had opened, the deafening noise of what sounded like a magnum firing. None of his men were carrying that weapon. A moment later he heard a thud, followed by a voice he immediately recognised to be Healey's; crying in rage. It was drowned out by the endless machine gun fire, it seemed to last an eternity before finally he heard a second thud. Swallowing back the bile that had formed in his throat he took a jagged breath and stared at the door leading to the corridor in horror. Not having time to bring round his rifle he dropped his hand to his waist, to the second holster. Like a scene out of a Sergio Leone movie he brought the gun up as the door opened, depressing the trigger before it had even reached chest height. A stream of rounds erupted from the barrel of the gun. As he brought the Glock up splashes of red erupted on the legs, stomach and chest of the first man through the door. By the time he had brought the Glock up to the man's chest level he was already breathing his last, the final four rounds left in the magazine hit him full on in the chest and neck, spraying blood onto the men behind him. Harman narrowed his eyes further as he heard a clicking sound coming from his gun; the magazine was empty. The man was already falling and the man behind him was trying to get his rifle around him to get a clean shot in. Harman's left hand dove down to the SOCOM still in its holster. He brought the second, more futuristic looking pistol, up in his left hand as his right released the Glock, the Glock fell to the ground and the man's eyes were diverted for a second. A hint of a smile tugged at Harman's lips as he depressed the trigger on his SOCOM.

The smile was short lived; a horrified expression came across Harman's face as he heard another click. The safety was on! A memory flashed across his mind, of when he had kitted up in the morning, he had put the safety on the pistol as he didn't want it going off by accident. The Glock was one of the safest pistols ever made, he wasn't worried about that, but the SOCOM he wasn't so sure of. His mind screamed obscenities as the error of his ways dawned on him; at this point his training took over. His subconscious seized control and he didn't register what his mind was saying at the time. Instead he strode forward and leapt at the second man with his arms outstretched, his right hand grappled for the rifle and desperately pushed it up and away from him, he slammed it hard into the wall and with his left hand still holding the SOCOM he smashed it hard across his body into the commando's stomach. The commando coughed, winded by the blow, and doubled over gasping. Before he could recover Harman let go of the rifle and brought his right hand back across and delivered a powerful jab into the commando's face, he heard a crack as the mans nose broke. Through the balaclava the man was wearing he saw his eyes glaze over as he sunk into unconsciousness. Harman didn't have any time to celebrate this short lived victory over the two commandos as it was then that he realised there was a third commando standing a couple of metres behind the second, there was no way he would be able to dive at this commando before getting shot apart. He stood for a moment holding the unconscious form of the second commando, shielding himself from any gunfire. The third commando slowly lowered his rifle, Harman breathed an incredulous sigh, perhaps they were going to let him go? At almost the same time as this thought materialised in his head the commando raised his rifle again and fired a short three round burst into Harman's right knee cap, which was unprotected by the unconscious commando. Roaring in pain, Harman let go of the commando and sunk to the floor. His hands clasped desperately around his shattered kneecap and he winced in pain as two more commandos entered the plane.

Wilkes and Jefferson had been carrying the case to the door, Benjamin opened the door (which was unlocked from the inside) and pulled it open in time to see the Sergeant who had been assigned to protect them keeling over, there seemed to be bodies and blood everywhere. Jefferson felt his bladder go at the sight and a wet patch appeared down his leg, the scientists hurried back into the room and placed the case back into the cube shaped container,

"Close it! Quickly!" bellowed Benjamin as he dashed to the open door, he got to it just in time to see the commandos dashing into the room, leaping over the Sergeant. He started pulling the steel door shut and was about to sigh in relief when a black booted foot found its way into the gap of the doorway. "No!" he shouted in frustration, the door was wrenched out of his grasp by a much stronger man and the last thing he saw was the flare of an assault rifle before he felt a searing pain in his head a split second before his world went black. Jefferson looked on in horror as his long time colleague flew backwards from the door, it didn't take Jefferson long to realise he was dead.

"Shit….shit….shit!" he murmured over and over, frantically pushing at the buttons on the cube shaped container, a sharp buzz emitted from the container;

"**Access code denied. Please re-enter code."**

Jefferson whimpered as he saw the display, he started punching keys again when he felt a lancing pain in his lower back, he lowered his quivering hands and put them on his back, raising them in front of his eyes he saw that they were smeared red. He slowly slid from the cube and lay beneath it, twitching as his movement slowly left him. The bullet had shattered part of his spine and was cutting off his nervous system. He heard footsteps cross the room and saw two black boots come to a stop by his head. The commando standing above him grimaced distastefully at the puddle of urine beneath the scientist. He shouldered his rifle and fired a three round burst into the scientist's head.

Harman lay in a similar situation to the scientist; his hands clutched at his ruined knee and he bit down hard on his lip, causing a drip of blood to slide down his chin. A commando stood over him, he raised his rifle to his shoulder and Harman closed his eyes to prepare for the end.

"Stop!" a voice suddenly called out, the voice was strangely melodic, it was the sort of voice which sounded familiar despite the fact that he knew he'd never heard it before. "Don't kill him!" the man stepped into the plane finally, his powerful handgun still in his hand from having shot Jones a half minute before. Harman looked up at the man; he had wavy chestnut brown hair and a smiling face.

"You….bastard…" Harman muttered, staring up in contempt at the murderer. He scrunched his face up and grunted in pain, doubling over as the man lashed out and kicked him hard in his knee. The man looked to his dead commando and to the unconscious one, who was being brought around by another of the commando team.

"One dead…one injured…acceptable losses." He turned to the commando who still had his rifle trained on Harman, "Take this one with us. This one can be used." With these words he turned to the doorway and motioned again with his hand, instead of commandos this time two men hurriedly entered. They were dressed in full hazard suits similar to the ones Jefferson and Wilkes had been wearing. These two moved off to the back of the plane,

"No…" Harman murmured as he realised where they were going. He turned his head back around to the commando in time to see a rifle butt rushing for his face, as he slowly blacked out he vaguely saw the leader's feet as he pushed open the door into the cockpit. A pitiful voice called out, "Please…I have a wife! And a baby boy!" the voice was cut out by the sound of the magnum firing again. As his consciousness slowly slipped away the man's words echoed in his mind,

"This one can be used…"

Then, as he finally blanked out it dawned on him. _There had been…one…gunshot. One…_

**Author's Notes:** Well there we go, the first chapter is over. Again, I hope you enjoyed it. I will have the second chapter up in a week or so hopefully (due to a precariously balanced timetable I can't put aside as much time for writing at the mo as I would like). Any comments you have to make on it please do make and I'll take everything you say into serious consideration. Thanks for reading!


	2. Cutting It Fine

**Author's Notes: **Hi, thanks for taking the time to read this. I hope you enjoy this second chapter as much as I did writing it. I also hope that those die hard zombie fans out there can bare to wait just a little longer until the zombies appear. I hope you still read this, and have fun whilst at it. Please R&R!

**Chapter 2 – Cutting It Fine**

"You've woken up to Windyclaw FM!" the jazzed up, over enthusiastic voice called out jubilantly over the alarm clock, "The sun is shining; the sea is blue and its 82 degrees, how about that people? That's right; it's just another day in paradise! So why are you still in bed? Get up! Get some clothes on and get out there! Here's a little something to wake you up." And with that final note the presenter's voice was drowned out by perhaps the most appropriate music choice he could have made; "The Beach Boys" – Surfin' USA.

The man lying on the bed in the small apartment let out a groan as he slowly opened his dark brown eyes to the sun light streaming in through the window, he closed them instantly and sighed. A moment later they snapped open again, sitting bolt upright he stared intently out of the window.

"The sun shouldn't be that high…" he croaked to himself, a wave of realisation hit him as he slowly turned his head towards the alarm clock by his bed, it read **"10:00"**. He sat there for a moment, in silent contemplation, a minute later he finally spoke,

"Bugger." This enlightened evaluation of the situation having left his mouth; he slowly stood and walked to the window. Opening it slightly he stuck his head out into the morning breeze and looked down the road to the giant clock on the side of the hotel down the road, it showed that it had just gone ten. "Damn…" having confirmed his lateness for work he turned away from the window. Staggering across to the alarm clock he let his right hand drop down to the buttons, he pressed the first button on the clock, the music doubled in volume and he impulsively covered his ears, letting out the type of groan that can only truly be made by those who have just woken up. A voice came through the wall from the next apartment,

"Turn that crap off! Don't make me come around there and do it myself!" the voice was high pitched; it sounded like someone had strangled the cat whilst stamping repeatedly on its tail. He moved his finger across slightly and hurriedly pressed the second button, this time the music went off. Placing the palm of his hand on his face he shook his head slightly to try and shake off the sleepy feeling that was still telling him to go back to bed. Resisting the urge, as tempting as it was, he walked across the room; still dressed in just the boxers he had slept in, and pushed open a door opposite his bed.

For a three room apartment the bathroom wasn't a bad size, it had a shower block to the right of the door and a sink with a mirror above it opposite the door as he walked in. A cabinet was to the left of the door, a small vertical window ran up the wall above the cabinet, almost reaching the ceiling. Resting his hands on the sink he turned the tap and cupped his hands beneath the cold water. He splashed it onto the face, closing his eyes, and repeated the motion twice more in a fairly successful effort to wake himself up. Looking upwards and into the mirror he saw the reflection of a twenty four year old man with dirty blonde hair spiked forward and upwards slightly, his dark brown eyes complimented his looks by providing him with a rather striking appearance, mainly due to their contrast with his hair. Smiling at himself he ran a hand over his chin, correction, a dirty blonde haired man who needed a shave.

Five minutes, one shower and a small shaving cut later he stepped back out of his bathroom a different person to the slouched figure who had staggered in dreary eyed and groaning. His tall six foot figure stood broad shouldered with the wiry build of a sprinter, his eyes were now sharp and alert, twinkling as if he was finding something humorous about everything he laid eyes on. Hair spiked up naturally at the front, a reason to save purchasing hair products, he didn't look half as rugged as when he had woken up. Crossing his bedroom, careful to avoid the clothing and other paraphernalia that covered the floor, he opened the door to his closet and pulled out a plain white long sleeved t-shirt, donning the t-shirt and pulling the small silver chain he was wearing over the top of it he set about finding the rest of his clothes.

He found a black, slightly faded pair of jeans beneath the air conditioning unit and pulled them on as well with a large brown leather belt which he looped around the trousers and tied in a knot, letting the loose ends hang down as he returned to his closet and filed through the relatively few items of clothing to find the dark blue denim jacket hanging up at the back. Brushing aside the other jackets and shirts he pulled it off the hook and slipped it on over the white t-shirt. Checking out his reflection in the mirror attached to the door of his closet he brushed a few tendrils of hair out of his face and flashed a charismatic grin,

"That'll do" he said to himself with a smile as he began to close the door.

Suddenly tightening his grip on the door he stopped it in its motion; the sunlight through the window had caught an item in his closet.

Shaking his head and grinning at his rushed early morning forgetfulness he hurriedly shrugged the jacket from his arms and dropped it to the floor as he picked up another item from inside the closet. The brown leather shoulder holster, going well with his belt he thought, was lying innocuously on a shelf in his closet. Picking it up he quickly put the holster on, opening a small drawer below the holster he pulled out a medium sized black pistol; a Beretta M9. This pistol although it had until recently been used primarily by the Armed Forces had recently become a popular model amongst many police forces across the country; due to it's high calibre 9mm rounds and its larger than average 15-round magazine; the Windyclaw Police Department had recently opted for it to become their new pistol for all police officers operating in the city and its surrounding districts. Reaching further into the drawer he pulled out a full magazine of live rounds and pushed it into the pistol; hearing a click he applied the safety catch and placed it reverently into his holster, a further magazine of 15 rounds was located in a pouch just to the side of the main pistol holster. Reaching down to the floor the young man picked up his denim jacket and put it back on, he looked into the mirror and nodded his head. The tailor's work had been exemplary; there was no bulge.

Finally closing his closet and turning on the spot he picked up the final two items he would need for the day, next to the treacherous alarm clock lay his retro black leather wallet, open on his picture, below which was his badge. He flipped it close and slipped it into an inside pocket of his jacket. The words beneath the photo read;

"**Sergeant Nicholas. A. Westley, W.P.D"  
"#014683742".**

Nick Westley reached into the opposite inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pair of completely opaque black sunglasses; pushing them back onto his head he grabbed his keys from the table and opened the door out into the corridor. Quickly darting back into the room he closed his window, he was on the fifth floor, but you could never be too sure. Flicking off the light switch on the way out Nick closed the door behind him and locked it.

The corridor was, as far as apartment block corridors go, uninteresting; the walls were painted with drab colours and it wasn't much to look at. Still, Nick found himself blessing again the luck that had caused him to find this apartment in the extensive listing in the papers. Located in a block close to the centre of Windyclaw, and near to the police headquarters, the apartment was everything that he had been looking for and more. Nick strode off down the corridor, which contained seven similar apartments to his, until he reached the central lobby of the floor. The lobby was a large room with several pot plants and posters on the wall to increase its aesthetics. Two elevator doors were set into the wall to Nick's right, with another corridor similar to the one he was in branching off straight ahead of him, and another in the middle of the wall to the left. A handful of random paintings, mainly contemporary, hung on the walls above the seats and between the elevators, completing the lobby's decorations.

Nick casually ambled across the lobby, stepping over the contents of a ripped bin bag which lay in the corner of the room, scattered cans and empty packets of food already attracting two flies which hummed furiously as they circled the bag. Scrunching up his face at the smell Nick hurriedly jabbed his finger at the call button for the elevator. Pinching his nose he pressed it repeatedly as the elevator laboriously pulled itself up from the depths of the elevator shaft. By the time the elevator had finally pinged open Nick was practically gagging from the stench of rotten eggs and goodness knows what in the bag, practically leaping into the elevator he pressed the button marked "G". The doors slowly closed and Nick leant back against the back wall of the elevator, arms spread against the railing on the back. He looked backwards and forwards from the mirrored walls on either side of the elevator, admiring the way they appeared to make the elevator go on forever.

Nick snapped his eyes back to the elevator panel as the "2" button suddenly lit up, he shuffled into the corner of the elevator just as the sign above the panel read "2" and the doors opened again. He lifted his gaze up from the control panel to meet the pair of intent green eyes looking back at him,

"Morning Nick!" the distinctly feminine voice called out to him.

A smile passed across Nick's face as he replied, "Morning Julie." The tall blonde haired woman stepped into the elevator and leant against the side wall, her golden blonde hair fell over her left shoulder as she tilted her head slightly to one side. She was wearing a flowing white skirt which dangled around her ankles, with a split in the side, revealing her long shapely legs up to her thighs. She wore beneath the skirt a pair of dark green shorts, covering some of her legs so as to not make the out fit look too scandalous. A matching dark green halter neck top, with a small locket dangling from a gold chain around her neck completed the look. She wore a number of bangles and bands around her wrists, of varying colours and textures, with small golden earrings in each ear.

"So, what you up to today Nick?" she asked, crossing her arms in front of herself as the doors closed, looking intently at him.

"Oh you know, saving the world, rescuing damsels in distress….that sort of thing." He replied nonchalantly, with a sly grin.

"Well be sure not to shoot yourself in the foot whilst you're doing all that rescuing then." She replied in kind, chuckling softly to herself.

Nick smiled at her sarcastic remarks, "What's the oh so popular Julie up to today then?"

"I've got an audition downtown."

"You have?"

"Yep." She replied proudly, at the age of twenty one Julie desperately wanted to become an actress, and had moved to Windyclaw to pursue her dreams.

"Nice one. What's it for?"

"Some sitcom called 'Inside Out'." She replied, her excitement obvious to Nick, she was obviously having a hard time concealing the happiness at scoring an audition.

Nick nodded his head, "Well good luck with it!"

"Thanks Nick." She replied as the elevator doors opened again, this time on the ground floor. "Good talking to ya…see you later maybe." She said, giving him a small goodbye wave and a flash of a smile before stepping out into the lobby and then disappearing out of the door into the street.

Nick watched her go with an incredulous look on his face, he laughed a little at the way she seemed to glide from one situation to the next, never allowing herself to be put down despite how many failed auditions, or how many doses of bad luck, came her way. Pushing himself away from the elevator wall Nick followed suit and stepped out into the ground floor lobby of the apartment complex. It was remarkably similar to the one on his floor, with the same pot plants and random choices of paintings on the wall. A number of green felt chairs and sofas were in the corner of the room, with a small coffee table in the middle of them all. A cloud of thick cigar smoke rose up steadily from one of the chairs, where an aged wrinkled man sat quietly, puffing away as he read the paper.

"Morning." Nick said to the man as the elevator doors closed again behind him, the man's eyes met Nick's and he stared at him for a long time, but said nothing. Raising an eyebrow and shrugging to himself Nick walked across the room and to the door leading outside, the man's eyes following him the whole way. Forcing the feeling that he was being watched to the back of his head Nick placed his hands on the doors and pushed them open. The doors were, in comparison to the bin bag and cigarette smell of the previous areas, quite attractive. They were solid oak with gilded brass handles, gleaming after a new coat of polish, and had an automatic lock on the inside, making the building inaccessible to all who didn't live there. The standard buzzer intercom system ran throughout the building meaning that anyone wanting access had to buzz the person they wanted to see to let them in. Those who lived in the building simply looked into the small camera mounted above the door and opposite the intercom; the security guard inside let them in.

He pushed the door open and stepped out onto the stairs outside, he allowed the door to close behind him, hearing the muted click as it locked itself in place, before setting off down the clean white steps to the pavement. The building he had just left was on Park Avenue, and was two blocks from Windyclaw Park, a large grassy area in the middle of the city. Similar to Central Park in New York; the park provided a place for the city workers to enjoy some beautiful surroundings during their lunch breaks; a place for picnics, romantic walks, and for the more adventurous young couples to explore the differences between the two of them. Across the busy road in front of Nick was a series of similar apartment blocks and hotels. A large blue sign hung outside a store on the corner of the block baring the "Blockbuster" logo. Apart from this and a coffee shop to the right of Nick's apartment block there were no other shops to speak of on the street, it was primarily a residential area for those who needed to be close to their places of work in the centre of the city. As such, the pavements were bustling with crowds of people desperately trying to flag down taxis or just to walk from one end of the street to the other. People who, like Nick, had most likely overslept and were also in danger of being late for work.

Quickly taking the five steps down to street level Nick hurriedly side stepped around a pair of teenage boys and an old man to reach his car. He stopped and gazed for a moment in pride at his Blue Chip Cadillac CTS, a lot of people had asked him why he hadn't put some of the $31,999 he had spent on the car towards getting a slightly larger apartment, they had pointed out that a car after all, was just a car. Nick had always replied with the same remark,

"A car may just be a car. But a Cadillac is not just a Cadillac."

While it was true that Nick could have bought a bigger place and got a worse car, he felt that he had got his priorities right in getting the car. As the sunlight glinted off the roof, the dazzling shades of blue seeming to have been created at just the right tone to juxtapose the pale blue of the sky and the deep blue of the ocean, he ran a hand back through his hair as he admired it. Although it wasn't a top of the range car, or even close, it was more than good enough. Nick's lifelong love of Cadillac's had started with a bright red Cadillac he'd seen on TV as a child, and had continued onwards and upwards ever since. To finally own his very own Cadillac was to Nick the equivalent of a budding astronaut finally being granted permission to travel to space. He had been left a sum of money by a dead grandparent, a sum of money which over the last nine years had steadily accumulated interest until finally he'd been able to afford the car he'd always wanted. Pulling the key out from his pocket he pressed a small button, the car clicked as it unlocked, and soon Nick was sitting behind the wheel of the vehicle, pulling out into the traffic.

Resisting the temptation to just slap on the siren he kept under the dashboard and skip the morning traffic, he started up the V6 engine and started off down the street, the purring of the engine serenading him as he drove. Stopping at the traffic lights at the end of the street he checked the clock next to the car radio,

"**10:13"**

Nick's shift started at 10:30, sighing and resigning himself to the fact that he was probably going to be a few minutes late, Nick took a left after the first set of traffic lights and drove for a further two blocks before pulling up next to a Starbucks. He hadn't, after all, had a coffee yet.

The coffee house was located halfway down the city's high street. This inordinately long road stretched almost the entire length of the city in a perfectly straight line, rising up and down over the numerous intersecting roads to provide an enormous line of shops and businesses. As such the road resembled a somewhat scaled down version of the famous 'Strip' in Las Vegas. The shops all had lights outside them and at night neon glares and flashes spilled out across the sky from the busy night life below. At quarter past ten in the morning, with the sun glaring down from above, the shopkeepers had to make do with the consolation of having heaving crowds of customers to deal with. The building stretched a good twenty metres along the high street, providing a large quantity of tables to sit down at inside, along with tables and chairs set outside where wealthy businessmen and women discussed their coming day whilst enjoying a quick espresso or cappuccino to start the day. Already it was full of people, and Nick blessed his luck that he had managed to get a parking space just outside the shop. Turning off the engine and putting the keys back in his pocket he waited for a couple of cars to go past before getting out and quickly walking around to the pavement. Taking out the keys and pressing a button the car clicked again as the locks shut down, Nick put them away again and entered the cool shade of the Starbucks.

He breathed in deeply as the strong aroma of coffee entered his nose, slowly stepping through the throngs of people standing in small groups around the door he made his way forward to the counter. Looking at the long cue he sighed and checked his watch, unlike Sandra Bullock in "Miss Congeniality," he was pretty sure he wouldn't get away with just flashing his badge to get through the line.

Ten minutes of being jostled between an overweight Jamaican woman and a bald man who Nick swore was at least seven feet tall later; Nick arrived at the counter.

"I'll have a large Espresso con Panna, please." He asked loudly of the woman at the checkout, who nodded and gave him the thumbs up to save shouting to be heard above the din. Smiling politely as he got out his wallet and starting to count the notes he mimed a second cup underneath it so he could put it in his cup holders. Handing over the few dollars to the lady he motioned for her to keep the change and smiled once more before turning around, spinning around two young girls who had wandered in off the street, and returned to his car. Taking a sip of the caffeine rich espresso he sighed softly and closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the taste before taking the keys out of his pocket and opening the car again. Nick slid in; pushing himself over the passenger seat and into the driver's seat he pushed open the cup holders next to the radio and slid the coffee cup in as he started up the engine.

He'd just pulled into the main road when he heard a faint buzzing coming from just below the cup holders, taking another sip from his coffee before replacing it he fished out his phone and flipped it open,

"Hello?"  
"Nick, word to the wise, hurry the fuck up and make sure you're fucking on time today."

"Something up?" Nick asked.

"Fucking Captain Fantastic's having a fucking fit that's what. Stupid fucking moron seems to be on the fucking rag. Just please don't be late, where are you anyway!"

"Half a block down from Starbucks….." Nick said, a grin tugging at his lips.

"Stop grinning. I can fucking tell you're fucking grinning Nick. Put your fucking foot down alright, I'll see ya on time?"

"Probably. See you at the station, man." Nick said, hanging up. Putting down his phone he glanced once more at the clock.

"**10:22"**

Nick ran his tongue over his bottom lip and checked the clock again to be sure, shaking his head slightly he suddenly pushed down hard on the accelerator and the Cadillac leapt forwards, the V6 purring beautifully as he suddenly burst past the cars either side of him into the fast lane. Speeding up he carved a path around a red pickup and undertook the Mercedes in front of that before swerving left across the fast lane, through a gap in the grassy islands covered in various palm trees which dotted the gap between his side of the road and the other, and into the oncoming traffic. Gunning hard towards a large convertible a quarter mile ahead of him he slid back through a similar gap in the grassy islands straight across his fast lane and into the inside lane again. Speeding up, grinning widely, he ignored the cacophony of blaring horns coming from all directions and continued along the road. About five hundred metres later he saw the reflection of a pair of sirens in his rear view mirror, cringing as he realised he'd forgotten to put up his siren he suddenly pulled a ninety degree to the right and pulled down a large side street and then arced left onto a road gradually curving away from the high street.

The buildings began to decrease in size now, yet still continued to whip past him, the bright sunlight reflecting from their sides barely having time to register in his mind before he was gone. Ignoring the shouts of, "SLOW DOWN!" and "IDIOT!" from the pavement, Nick darted backwards and forwards between the lanes, having a near miss with a soft top Ferrari cruising along under the misguided control of a boy racer, until, finally reaching the desired turning and timed to perfection, he spun the wheel hard to the right and into another street.

The two cops following him could hardly believe their luck when they saw him turn down _that_ street. Glad that hopefully the chase with the reckless, but rather talented driver would be coming to an end soon they chased hard after him.

Practically flying down the streets now Nick wished the squad car would just realise that it was him and back down, he was starting to regret all the negative attention he was getting. The road he was driving down was extremely wide, with two large lanes on each side, lanes bereft of traffic. The only traffic driving down this road was making sure to stay well beneath the speed limit; the reason for this unnatural driving was the large building on the apex of the fork at the end of the street. The road split diagonally, going off left and right, right at this corner was a large building, four stories high with a large sign erected on the roof. The building was made of brick and stone, with a large colonnaded front with an archway over the door. The words on the rooftop sign said;

"**Windyclaw Police Department Duty, justice and peace"**

The two cops in the car continued grinning, the sight of the building confirming their knowledge that soon enough this perpetrator would be behind bars. Nick however, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of the building followed the road round to the left of the fork, haring past the building he turned right and up a long winding ramp, this ramp led up behind the building and circled around to the roof. As he reached the final stretch of the ramp a lone guard house sat up ahead, with a solid barricade blocking his way. If anything, the Cadillac appeared to speed up.

A single camera stuck out of the guard hut, which despite it's somewhat timid appearance, was kitted out with some of the most advanced technology on the market. The camera was cased in a bullet-proof shell, and as the Cadillac approached it zoomed in on the license plate, and then on the driver. It scanned the number and the image down through the database and cross referenced them, two hundredths of a second later a green light flashed on the camera and the barricade suddenly sprung upwards, the Cadillac roared underneath and the camera swivelled with surprising speed to the approaching squad car, having matched the drivers it kept the barricade up and the squad car raced through.

By this point, the cops in the car were extremely confused; the barricade didn't let anyone through who wasn't on the database. It began to dawn on them what might have happened when the car ahead spun sideways, screeching as it slid, before coming to a stop inside a parking space near the edge. The door opened and a man with dirty blonde hair stepped out, holding a glittering object in the air.

"Guys…I'm a cop……"

The two cops furiously leapt from their car.

"You could have killed someone!"

"Wha' choo playin' at foo'!"

Nick pulled the most over the top puppy dog face he'd ever made and thrust the badge back into his pocket, locking the Cadillac and taking a step towards the staircase leading down from the roof into the building.

"I'm really sorry…I really am…you guys don't need to mention this to anyone you know. It's just….I was going to be late. Again."

The cops just stared incredulously, shaking their heads and returning to their car, albeit with small grins on their faces. It wasn't the first time Nick had pulled a stunt like that, and they were pretty sure it wouldn't be the last. The heat of the chase was dying down, and they began to see the situation for what it really was, with a final chuckle they got back into their squad car and turned it around, driving back down the ramp through the barricade and out into the streets.

The digital clock inside Nick Westley's Cadillac read:

"**10:29"**

**Author's Note: **Hope you enjoyed this, I enjoy writing about Nick and hopefully you've got a brief idea of what his character is like now. The next chapter will be focused mainly around the police station, and more of Nick's day before I move to another set of important characters. Please R&R, any suggestions are welcome.


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